


Medic Made

by WizardSandwich



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Medic Rodimus, Other, rodi has a big beefy bff named hero in this and you Can't Stop Me, was vibing with medic rodi so i wrote this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22997215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardSandwich/pseuds/WizardSandwich
Summary: Hot Rod is not forged a medic. He does not have any innate knowledge or some gift for healing. What he does have is determination and the fierce desire to save who he can.
Relationships: Hot Rod & Original Character(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Diversity Hire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22926934) by [Iron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iron/pseuds/Iron). 



> hey i love medic rodi and now i'm here
> 
> follw me at @tasteful-robot-loving on tumblr if you have a request or just wanna see more of me!

The thing about being a medic in Nyon is you fly under the radar. Not that Hot Rod was ever forged to be a medic, but he’s pushed and pushed and pushed and he’s damn good at it. Good enough for Nyon, at least. Even when his servos shake. Even when his best friend is dying under him.

“Hey, hey, Hero—” Hot Rod pleads with Hero, whose green plating seems to be completely pink. “Hero. Buddy, please.”

Hero looks at him with those gold optics. They dart down to where Hot Rod’s servos rest against his plating, soaked in energon. “Slow your roll, Roddy. Don’t plan to die on you just yet,” the big mech reassures.

“I can’t—” Hot Rod starts.

Hero interrupts him, smiling as always, “Hey, I trust you. You can keep me alive.”

Hot Rod nods, holding back his reply. He sucks in a shaky breath that might sound a little too much like a sob. Hot Rod was forged with some pretty great mods and he’s never been more grateful to have them. The torches on his arms come to life and he sets to cauterizing the hole in Hero’s chest.

Funny, Hot Rod thought that Decepticons fought for freedom and life and yet—Hero is bleeding out because of them.

“Doing good, Roddy,” Hero slurs, voice hitching on air.

Hot Rod doesn’t say a word, servo pressing and pressing. Lines are haphazardly stitched together, but even he knows that this could be better. He wishes he were more precise, that he had more tools. He wishes that they weren’t stuck here and that he was an actual medic and some stupid mech pretending to be one.

Hot Rod can feel the way Hero’s plating cools under his servos. It makes him panic, “Don’t—please don’t die on me!”

He knows he’s pleading to a lost cause, because Hero doesn’t smile this time. He looks so sad when looks at Hot Rod, like he’s the one letting Hot Rod down and not the other way around.

“Be strong for me, okay?” Hero says gently. He can barely move his arm but he tries anyway. He barely manages to press his servo to Hot Rod’s cheek. He can feel the wet energon that coats Hero’s digits. “You’re a good mech, Roddy. You’re an amazing medic.”

And Hot Rod doesn’t feel like one right now but—

“Open your arm panel,” he demands.

Hero is sluggish as he comprehends the order, but he does eventually. The panel on his arm that allows access to his lines opens.

Hot Rod is quick to plug himself into Hero’s port and launch an override that stops energon flow to the area. In the next moment, he’s unscrewing the lines and connecting his own. He’s so much smaller that Hero that he doubts this will work for long, but he’s willing to try anything.

“Roddy,” Hero pleads. “Don’t.”

“I’m not letting you die on me,” Hot Rod snarls.

Hero doesn’t have much fight left in him and the energon washes through both of their systems. Between the two of them, there’s hardly enough to run higher functions, but Hot Rod sends out a distress ping loud and clear. Those didn’t require a mech to be consciously aware.

Hero’s still leaking, however, and at this rate he’ll take the both of them. Hot Rod can only hope that someone will be able to save them from this mess.

“I’m sorry,” Hero rasps.

Hot Rod shushes him. “Don’t worry about it. I’m your medic.”

It sounds hollow even to his own audials but he doesn’t have time to think on it before everything goes black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I use bit as a term of endearment like kid but it's a shortened form of bitlet which is what geode calls the newly forged and constructed

The first thing Hot Rod sees is a grey ceiling. He can hear the sounds of shuffling around him. He tries to move his helm but finds that he cannot. It’s terrifying—absolutely terrifying—to be immobile. Hot Rod cannot help the panic that builds in his chest.

“Why can’t I move?” he asks into the unknown.

It only takes a moment for a grey face to appear above his. The mech’s helm is pink and his optics a purple that borders on blue. “Calm down,” he says. “You’re safe.”

“Why can’t I move?” Hot Rod demands again.

The mech sighs. “Medical grade restraints and some sensor blocks,” he answers. “You’ve got some impressive mods. I did not want to be on the receiving end of them.”

And that… is understandable actually. Hot Rod’s torches could melt almost any bot’s plating. He probably wouldn’t have done the same but he understood it.

“I’ll take off the sensor blocks,” the mech offers, “but I’m not taking off the restraints until I know you won’t kill me.”

“Fair,” Hot Rod says.

“I’m Geode, by the way,” the mech says, as he uncovers Hot Rod’s medical port. He plugs himself in and Hot Rod can feel him start to peel away unnecessary coding. “I’m a medic.”

Hot Rod asks, “Is that where we are? A medical institute?”

Geode must shake his helm. He doesn’t verbally answer with a negative, “We’re in my temporary lodgings. I was passing through Nyon when I got your distress beacon. Your friend—Hero?—was just alive enough to ping me the coordinates to this place.”

Panic suddenly flares in Hot Rod, the memories of what had happened coming to the forefront. He’s squirming when Geode pulls away from him. “Is he—is he alive?” Hot Rod asks, frantic.

Geode huffs. When Hot Rod lifts his helm to look at the medic, his servos are on his hips. “How do you think I know his designation?” Geode sounds put-upon, like explaining is a chore.

“Can I see him?” Hot Rod asks.

“He’s in the other room. He’s on an IV.” Geode moves to Hot Rod’s side. “Neither of you are getting out of those berths until all of your systems of running to my satisfaction.”

Hot Rod puts on his best pout, the one that gets Hero to do whatever he wants. “Not even if I ask nicely?” he tries.

Geode shakes his helm, “Not even then, bit.”

Hot Rod rolls his optics at the moniker, “I’m not that young.”

“Younger than me, that’s for sure,” Geode says. “Now, want to tell me what happened to get you into this state?”

“Decepticons,” Hot Rod says bitterly. “Hero’s never been big on this whole thing. Some big mech decided he was a prime target for recruitment and didn’t take well to his rejection. Or something like that. I only saw part of it.”

“They are getting more radical, aren’t they?” Geode muses aloud.

Hot Rod nods, “Yeah.”

“I suppose that _is_ one way to get Cybertron’s attention,” Geode mutters. He fingers the cuff attached to Hot Rod’s wrist before letting it release, clearly going back on his previous word of keeping him restrained. “Stay in the berth,” Geode commands.

He moves hastily around Hot Rod, taking the one that sits across his throat last. Hot Rod can’t help be feel grateful when nothing holds him down. He moves to sit up. Geode has the nerves to push him back down.

“Stay,” he demands, like Hot Rod is a disobedient newbuild.

“Why are you so bossy?” Hot Rod complains more than asks.

“Become a medic and then we’ll talk.”

“I am a medic,” Hot Rod says. Then he falters. “Well, sort of.”

Geode grabs an energon cube off of a nearby table, sipping at it. “Bit, that thing you did? It was stupid and dangerous. If you want to be a medic, you’ve got a long way to go.”

“Then teach me if you think you’ve got such a leg up,” Hot Rod almost demands.

Geode looks down at him. His optics seem to glow brighter. Hot Rod does not know if it is because of amusement or the fuel. “What makes you think I have time for a bit like you?” Geode asks.

Hot Rod purses his lips, trying to find a suitable answer.

“Don’t you want to help bots?” Hot Rod asks, after a long moment. “Because Nyon has a lot of bots that need help.”

“And you think I’ll help them?” Geode says.

“At least teach me how,” Hot Rod bargains.

Geode’s expression twists into resignation. “I can stay for two quartexes,” he offers.

Hot Rod beams up at him.


End file.
